


Never Get Used to You

by infernalandmortal



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 20:38:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12218514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infernalandmortal/pseuds/infernalandmortal
Summary: “I worried you would get tired of me in space,” she confesses suddenly, in her blunt way, sinking back on his thighs, her feet dangling awkwardly off the seat.Murphy shakes his head. “I will never get used to you, Emori. I never want to get used to you. You’re really fucking incredible. And kind of scary,” he adds as an aside because it’s still true, even after all those years.She laughs, throwing her head back. He watches in fascination as her hair scatters over her shoulders, flowing like a waterfall down her back.I can’t keep my eyes off of you, he wants to tell her.I want to spend the rest of my life making you laugh. I want to spend forever trying to deserve you.





	Never Get Used to You

**Author's Note:**

> Set after S4. Un-betaed, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Enjoy!

Murphy finds her in the Rover, hanging out of the window, looking at the sky.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says, approaching the car, grinning at her when she smiles. He leans forward to kiss her cheek. “Happy to be back?”

“I forgot how nice non-recycled air is,” she says, that wry smile still on her lips. “We’ve only been here six hours but it’s so much better. I can tell the difference.”

The cut on her forehead from the landing is oozing. He reaches out to dab the blood away, then hands her a long strip of cloth he scavenged from Clarke’s stash of bandages. “For your hand,” he explains when she gives him a strange look.

She takes it, turns it over in her hands, the badass one still on display. He reaches for it and presses a kiss to the nub of her pinky. “I’m gonna miss it,” he says, half-jokingly. He’s a little serious, though; he’ll miss the confidence she showed by leaving it uncovered on the Ring. It spoke of belonging, of all the little ways she was learning to love herself.

Emori chuckles self-deprecatingly. “Liar.”

He shakes his head. “After six years, shouldn’t you know me a little better than that?”

“True,” she concedes. He presses a kiss to her wrist, then one to her thumb, then her palm. “John…” she murmurs. “What are you doing?”

When he looks up, her eyes are glassy, unfocused. “Nothing. I just really love you,” he whispers, lifting his head to kiss her. It’s a bit awkward with the Rover’s door between them, but she hangs half-way out the window to meet his lips, wrapping her right arm around his shoulders to bring him closer. He pecks her on the lips, the nose, the cheeks, the eyelids while she laughs, relief at being alive after six years of hell coursing through both their veins.

“Nice to see the passion hasn’t died,” Monty quips as he passes them, a bundle of firewood on his shoulders. Madi walks beside him, Clarke’s makeshift rifle in her hand. From the looks of it, she was about to show Monty the strap, which was inscribed with the names of the dead. Murphy tried to read it earlier, but it hurt his heart too much.

“Bite me,” he says to Monty without venom. Madi catches onto what the exchange meant and lets out a loud wolf whistle, sending Emori into a fit of laughter.

“Where did you learn that?” Monty asks, almost scoldingly, and Murphy joins Emori in laughter.

He pulls open the door and pokes her in the leg until she slides over so he can sit beside her. “Mm, much better,” she hums, tucking herself against his chest. He kisses the top of her head, cards his fingers through her hair. She sighs, burying her face in his chest. “You still smell like the Ring,” she complains.

“I’ll roll around in the dirt later if it’ll make you feel better,” he suggests impishly.

She whacks him on the arm. “No, John. Although,” she says, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “You should shave. It’s getting too prickly.”

He leans down to rub his cheek against hers. “What, not a fan of this?”

“Stop it, John!” she says, but she’s giggling. He grins when she presses a kiss to his stubbly cheek. “It’s too itchy. And you’re ridiculous, just so you know.”

“Said the thief to the cockroach,” he retorts, kissing her a little longer this time, letting his lips linger on hers. Her smaller hand comes up to knot in his hair, tugging lightly at the too-long strands, and she presses her tongue to his lower lip in a way that makes him shiver.

When they break apart, they’re both breathing heavily. He reaches for her badass hand again, bringing it to his lips once more, kissing the welded fingers. “It’s like a little claw,” he says affectionately, kissing her palm.

She reaches for the wrap he brought her. “Hardly ‘little’,” she mutters. “Say goodbye, John.”

“No,” he grumbles. “It’s cute.”

“Shut up.” She pulls it from his grasp and begins winding the cloth around it, from her wrist up. Even after three years of leaving her hand uncovered, she can still disguise it with rapid dexterity. It makes something in Murphy’s heart hurt.

“What if they still throw me out for this?” she asks quietly, all playfulness gone, as she rests her head against his chest again. “When we open the bunker...what if all I am is a stain to them?”

Murphy shakes his head, taking the cloth from her hand and finishing the job for her. “You won’t be.”

“You don’t know that.” Her lips are trembling. “What if everything goes back to the way it was? What if they cast me out again?”

Murphy sees the weariness in her eyes. After six years of acceptance, would she have returned to the ground only to be worthless again? Was that all she was meant to be?

No. Murphy calls bullshit on that.

“They won’t. And if they try, I won’t let them.” He nearly spits the words, he’s so determined.

Emori frowns. “How can you be so sure?”

“I can’t be,” he says honestly. “But wherever you go, I’ll go too. I’m not leaving you. Not ever.”

“John,” she whispers, and then her lips are on his again, the kiss deep and thorough, her hands pressing him back into the seat. He lets her straddle him and kisses her neck, her collarbone, the spot near her jaw that makes her jolt and shiver.

“I love you,” he whispers into the warm skin of her shoulder, the soft fabric of her shirt. “I love you so damn much.”

“I worried you would get tired of me in space,” she confesses suddenly, in her blunt way, sinking back on his thighs, her feet dangling awkwardly off the seat.

Murphy shakes his head. “I will never get used to you, Emori. I never want to get used to you. You’re really fucking incredible. And kind of scary,” he adds as an aside because it’s still true, even after all those years.

She laughs, throwing her head back. He watches in fascination as her hair scatters over her shoulders, flowing like a waterfall down her back.  _I can’t keep my eyes off of you_ , he wants to tell her.  _I want to spend the rest of my life making you laugh. I want to spend forever trying to deserve you._

She’s staring down at him, he realizes. Her small hand is stroking his hair, running through the messy strands, smoothing it out. “You’re beautiful,” she murmurs. “You know that, right?”

He shrugs. “As long as you like what you see…”

“Shut up,” she says again. “You are. I like looking at you. You’re the only good choice I ever made.”

“That’s a pretty shitty commentary on your life,” he quips, leaning up to kiss her, shivering as she runs her hands down and over his chest.

“I love you, John,” she whispers against his lips before pulling back just a fraction to look at him. When he opens his eyes, she’s practically glowing, eyes smiling at him, skin pleasantly warm. “I love you more than anything.”

He nods, throat nearly closing up, and pulls her down for another kiss. They stay like that, kissing and touching, until Clarke flings open the door of the Rover and tells them they’re not allowed to “defile where I’ve been sleeping for the past six years, for the love of God!”

Murphy and Emori take one look at each other and burst into laughter. For once, Murphy thinks, everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.


End file.
